Autogynephilia
by Aldrae
Summary: When Johan Liebert looks in the mirror, it is not always his face he sees. Contains Spoilers. Incest warning.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Monster. There! Happy now?

**Rating:** **M**. I mean it. **M**. If you are underage, or generally uncomfortable with lime flavored fics, leave NOW.

**Warnings**: Incest, References to past sexual abuse. One of the most twisted things I have ever written. UST, Angst and General perversion run rampant. Needless to say, if you cannot stomach any of these things, do not read this!

**Author's notes: **This fic was inspired, in part, by Chapter 2 of my earlier story, Twins and Apple Strudels. You do not have to read that to get this though.

I thought it would be an interesting challenge to write something from Johan's POV for a change.

Reviews will be greatly appreciated.

**Autogynephilia**

When Johan dressed himself up as Anna, he did not see it as cross dressing.

He was not particularly male to begin with. At least he did not think so. By some accident of meiosis and gene selection, his body just happened to be born male. However, Johan did not see himself as female either. There was no secret yearning to be a woman, no hidden envy of the female sex. As far as he was concerned, it would not have made a difference whether he was male, female or even both. Identity was something he had learned to live without. It just did not matter. Things like sex and gender were generally irrelevant in the larger scheme of things; they could always be manipulated to his advantage when circumstances called for it. He was a man, but he could just as easily become a woman anytime he felt it was more advantageous to be perceived as female.

However there was one thing that never really changed.

As a man, he could assume any form; take on any identity that suited him. He had numerous names, Johan Liebert, Michael Reichman, Frantz Heine, to name a few. He had even been a vampire in the eyes of one crazed psychopath, and an alien in the eyes of another. Johan was an expert at twisting people's perceptions of himself. He could be anyone he wanted to be… as a man.

Whenever he dressed as a woman, this changed. As female, he only ever called himself one name...

Anna.

It was the name he whispered now, staring at his reflection in the mirror.

He was wearing a plain denim skirt, a white linen blouse and flat walking shoes.

It was the same outfit she was wearing in class, at this very moment. His wig was long, blonde, and touched the exact same spot on his back that her hair did on hers.

Johan knew, of course, that physically, he was not Anna. They were twins, but they were not even identical. He was male; her older brother. They were vastly different. Even if they had similar features, their bodies were not the same. Their temperaments had never been. They did not even think the same way. While he knew his sister well enough to predict her behavior with a great deal of accuracy, there were those times she showed an annoying ability to baffle even him.

Physically, they were very different people. He was aware of this.

But all this did not change the fact that they were two parts of the same entity, two sides of the same monster. He was himself, but he was also her.

He was as comfortable wearing her skin as he was in his own… more so sometimes, because he knew that when the world looked at him, it did not see him. What it saw was her. It saw that they were the same. That he was her. Even when he felt the emptiness that existed when she was not there, no one else could perceive it. It was a reaffirmation of the fact that he had always believed, that he and his sister were the same single creature.

That had to be why he felt thoroughly incomplete without her; why the monstrous hunger he felt was just that much more unbearable when she was not close by.

His sister held the only parts of him that were still sane.

She was the better part of this monster that was the two of them combined.

Looking at the mirror, Johan knew that he was not Anna. He could never be her.

For one thing, she was not this tall, or this pale. Her eyes had an innocence his own lacked. The breasts hidden under her plain linen blouse were perfectly genuine and, no doubt, incredibly beautiful. The significant, and rapidly growing, bulge between his legs would not be present if he was indeed Anna.

The real Anna was certainly not this perverse.

He never felt the need to pretend to be her when she was actually with him. This was why, as children, he would immediately take off his ribbon and hairpiece anytime he was alone with her. Her presence had always made him more aware that he was, technically, supposed to be male. He could be himself, such as he was, only when he was with her.

That person in the mirror that wore her clothes and used her name was merely a fairly accurate replacement, a substitute to tide him over until her return.

And even as he slid his fingers, so slowly, under the hem of the soft denim skirt, he knew already that it would not be enough.

It never was.

It was an amazing thing, the capacity humans had to feel need.

For a very long time, he had considered himself above it.

He had not really understood until after 511 Kinderhiem. In that place, he learned the rudiments of war, politics, economics and government. He also refined his instinctive knowledge about people and how easy it was to manipulate and control them. He learned that the most effective tool of control was fear… closely followed by greed… and then lust.

He had known about fear and greed before, and was already quite skilled at using them.

In Kinderhiem, Johan Liebert learned what lust was, and what an effective tool it could be when used properly.

It was amazing what people would reduce themselves to for just one touch… just one kiss, one hand job under the table, one blowjob in the darkest corner of the room, a quick fuck behind the stairs, or inside the closet, where no one would see.

By the age of eight, Johan had learned as much about the workings of sex and the human anatomy as the average prostitute. He had also learned how to apply this knowledge in a way that was positively Machiavellian. Johan was adept enough at manipulating people to ensure that he kept himself safe from the worst of the sexual abuse. He was the only child who survived Kinderhiem with some semblance of virginity left.

He only hoped that he would never find himself in a position where he would be ruled by the sort of lust that had so thoroughly disgusted him. The idea of becoming a base, brainless, hormone driven beast like the supervisors at Kinderhiem was one he had always found completely abhorrent.

So it horrified him to no end to discover that Kinderheim had corrupted him enough to make him begin to crave some of the things he had learned to despise.

Kisses went without saying. He wanted his sister to touch him. He wanted to touch her.

He had always been naturally fascinated with the parts of her that were different from him. But now it went beyond mere fascination. He was still a more or less, a child, and did not think about these things often. But he did think them, occasionally, especially when there was nothing else to distract him. He was not old enough yet to want her sexually, but the seeds had been planted. And this new, swiftly growing desire combined itself with his general and already consuming need for her.

But Johan was nothing if not controlled.

However, control could only last so long, especially when she was no longer there to calm his madness with a semblance of normalcy.

He was eleven, and they had been separated for five months, when he began to collect pictures of her.

Three months later, he began to collect the sort of things he knew she liked to wear.

He also began, in the privacy of his room, behind the firmly locked door, to wear them… and to touch himself though them.

It was about this time that he began to show the first signs of puberty.

By the time he was fifteen, he was in complete control of the underground banks, and was wealthy enough to buy anything he wanted. He had also acquired the deep, hypnotic voice that was to turn a multitude of people into monsters, and lead even more to their deaths. He was a methodical and absolutely remorseless killer. He was the young genius who controlled most of the criminal world and had made more money than most people ever would in several lifetimes.

But he had never had sex with a woman.

This was not for the lack of trying on their part. He was young, handsome, already comfortably rich and rapidly growing wealthier. The fact that he was still very young was not an issue. At fifteen, he was above the legal age of consent.* He got many offers from women, which he always politely turned down. It wasn't that he did not find a good number of them attractive. He was simply too preoccupied with work, or amused by their obvious greed, to let their looks distract him.

Besides, not one of them, in his opinion, was as beautiful as Anna.

Occasionally, Johan got offers from men. Those offers amused him considerably less. Few men survived the folly of propositioning him. It did not take long for his would be lovers to learn that his charming, seductive smile was not necessarily a good thing; it was usually a device he used to hide the fact that he was extremely pissed off. The handful of men who actually survived asking him for sexual favors were only kept alive because he knew he still needed to use them. If there was any man he would even remotely consider such an activity with, it was Tenma, the brilliant doctor who had saved his life.

Johan had no lovers, male or female.

Johan did not necessarily want to be alone. But he did not want to be with just anyone either.

At fifteen, he had come to terms with the fact that it was Anna he wanted.

And now, it was her face he saw in the mirror as he traced the head of his penis with his fingertips, it was her name he whispered as he began, slowly and gently, to stroke himself.

He wondered what her face would look like when he touched her. He knew all her expressions well. He wondered which one she would actually wear when he had his fingers inside her.

As the sensations built up, his fingers tensed against the cold surface of the mirror. He rested his forehead against it, his breath fogging its almost freezing surface.

Would she look anything like the image he saw in the glass?

He already knew the smell of her, the softness of her skin. He wondered how her hands would feel on his body, touching him. He wondered what she would look like naked and shamelessly aroused, what she would taste like on his tongue, how hot and tight it would feel inside of her.

He wondered what it would be like to watch her come.

Knowing her, she would probably scream.

Biting his lip, he shuddered violently and came, hard.

It took him some time to recover.

It did not take long for reality to return.

Looking down at the rapidly growing stain in front of the soft denim skirt he wore, he smiled wryly to himself.

He fought down a sudden, but not entirely unexpected stinging in his eyes, swallowed the painful thickness that rose in the back of his throat.

As he had expected, it was not enough.

Fool's gold

The emptiness only hurt more.

This was why he rarely let himself resort to this. The pain that followed was usually not worth the fleeting pleasure of the preceding orgasm.

He did not want fantasies, he wanted Anna.

Having her back in his life, on any level, would be better than this.

But was he not the one who had driven her away?

The smell of sex hung in the air, tormenting him, sickening him.

He washed his hands, then, mechanically, began to undress, tossing the clothes violently into the laundry basket in a sudden fit of self loathing.

It was not enough.

It was never enough.

He needed another shower.

He needed Anna.

He knew that he could not get her back now, not while she was still young enough to require the care of parents, and even then, not until he was absolutely sure it would be wise to move. The last thing he wanted was a repeat of the Liebert scenario. There was no way he would take the risk of eliminating the Fortners while she was under the same roof. He could not take it if she ran away from him a second time. He had not forgotten, and would never forget the sight of her, screaming and fainting at the sight of him, or the memory of her, driven by shock and terror into catatonia, wandering aimlessly around the hospital, not even recognizing who he was as he threw her coat over her, and completely unaware of her surroundings as he escaped the hospital with her in tow. She did not say a word to him as he dragged her behind him, searching for some form of shelter. She was wordlessly docile when he made her hide behind the bushes while he talked to the police officers that were attempting to restrain Dinger, the cab driver. When Dinger finally agreed to take them home with him, she followed behind him in a state of trancelike obedience. Her body was present, but her mind was gone.

He could not stand it.

So he was forced to let her go, and to watch from a distance as she gradually began to recover.

… To forget him…

He kept himself busy; acquiring wealth and seeking power for the hell of it, amusing himself with the human puppets whose lives he controlled and ended at will.

It was all just a way to kill time.

Twenty was a good age. She would be old enough to be able to let go of her attachments by then.

Until then, he could only prepare, and wait…

…and content himself with the poor substitute that stood before him in the mirror.

**The End**

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*****The legal age of consent in Germany happens to be 14; at least, Wikipedia says so.

Thanks for reading, and Please Review!


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